


Null Moon

by Lackingspace



Category: The Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Begging, Biting, Blood Play, Cunnilingus, Degradation, Dirty Talk, F/M, LOTS of 80s slang, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Spit Kink, Vampires doing vampire things, energy manipulation, expanding the magical community, its honestly not THAT dirty, witch reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:15:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28634592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lackingspace/pseuds/Lackingspace
Summary: Due to some mad bogus circumstances, your hand was forced into relocating to the Santa Carla witch coven. Not exactly where you saw yourself, but beggars cant be choosers or however that saying goes. New coven, new community, no idea how this was going to play out, what could go wrong?
Relationships: Marko (Lost Boys)/Original Female Character(s), Marko (Lost Boys)/Reader
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started a new series :)

Salt was something you’d found yourself trying to quickly get accustomed to. Don’t get it twisted, you weren’t mental and liked it in your food just fine, but it was in everything here. It was bogus, really. None of your new sisters warned you about the mundane annoyances when relocating to their beachfront town.

It was almost insidious how it could worm its way into just about anywhere and everything. Even on days you were a shut-in, your hair still had a salty ocean breeze scent and you swore you’d find grains of sand in the oddest of places. It wasn’t that big of a deal, just another thing out of your control-- one you’d never be able to change. 

The atmosphere answered to no one. Maybe this was the ocean’s way of welcoming you into the fold? Taking it as a sign that the gods were pleased with your departure from the Louisiana coven helped soothe the bitter ache. 

You had other things to occupy your thoughts, anyway. Nothing exciting, just the very normal, very stressful situations that came with moving. Having a not so smooth departure made your integration into this coven rocky. Trying to smooth that out while accommodating the new energy and dynamic of the community made things difficult. Stressful? Definitely. Normal? Unfortunately. Hectic? Totally, but still necessary to process. 

Getting to know your new coven sisters was also proving tedious, certain views not quite matching up. At least you were kept too busy to really worry over it. Keeping your mind occupied made everything easier. Even if they didn’t know why you’d really been looking to transfer, it was no secret on their end why they’d been so eager to accept you. They’d had a very specific position that none of the current members were willing to entertain. 

A major part of the job was the operation of the coven owned metaphysical shop on the boardwalk, night shift specifically. That had a swirl of mixed emotions bristle your senses- excitement just edging out over apprehension. Your old coven hadn't been open to the human public in any way, shape, or form. The practice was sacred and you were taught to keep it that way.

The only non-paranormal individuals allowed within the walls were partners of the community. A werewolf's mate, for instance, maybe suffering an energetic imbalance would be brought in. So dealing with the stuffy clueless human populace nightly? Well, the idea was less than stellar...but survival required adaptation, and you could be flexible. Still, predicting the havoc it’d play on your nerves was easy. Good thing wine existed because having a glass a day was majorly on the agenda. 

Oh well, every job had to have something and each place had slightly different energetic needs, different spiritual practices, and don’t even get you started on the nuances of rituals- everyone and their mom have their own twist. Baton Rouge had been a prime example of that- a hotbed for the magical community, it was embedded in the culture. Overflowing with a little something for everyone and then some. Different ailments, practices, people, and best of all different magics. 

On the other hand, all that variety came at the cost of a massive headache in interspecies politics. Witches and vampires, weres and goblins, selkies and sirens, demons and wendigos, elementals and everyone, keeping up with who was at who's throat was exhausting. It gave you a gnarly stomach ache frankly, but if that was the price of learning your craft, well, it wasn't that steep.

Headache, stomach pains, whatever- it was a price you'd gladly pay- had paid. Plus, you had loved the community there. Once you got past the politics there was a wealth of knowledge and power just floating around, free for grabs- even when it wasn’t free, there were ways to get what you’d wanted. 

Admitting that your departure had left hella bitter resentment towards your previous sisters was something you actively denied. Your new high priestess hadn’t wanted any hexes sent their way following her acceptance of you. Assuring her it was a mutual departure had been easy, they were extremely desperate and hadn’t really gone through all the hoops to look into it. Besides, it was technically true, there wouldn’t be hexes, just bad blood. There wasn’t really a need to let them know they’d be blacklisted from the area communals. You’d been to enough of them in the past, they weren’t that special anyway.

Here, alone in the dark with your thoughts, you could sit with the discontent. The choice to leave hadn’t been yours, but you could admit it was for the best. When faced with exile you were willing to sacrifice. Resentment notwithstanding, growth rarely happened if you stayed stagnant for too long. This could actually be a blessing in disguise, even with the perpetual gallons of salt. So here you were; New city, new coven, new people, new rules. 

A sigh escaped you at the thought as you put on a nice balancing act for anyone watching. The rules were certainly different here. 

Less in some ways, more in others- some very curious agreements. Carefully trying, and trying being the keyword, to descend some questionable-looking stairs while carrying delicate cargo. It being pitch black didn't exactly help either, but at twelve am with no flashlight, the darkness was expected. 

Not like you could carry one right now anyway and you’d be caught dead before you put on one of those gaudy forehead lights. A distant bonfire, presumably with partygoers, a few miles off was the only source of light outside of the odd shop still lighting up the boardwalk in the distance. 

Neither were a help to you here, but the darkness didn't bother you much, it was more the feeling of the wood against your feet that had you on edge. Foregoing shoes had seemed like the smarter choice knowing you'd be walking in the loose sugary sand, but with the way it mixed against the rough wood to scratch against the arch of your foot? Regret was front and center which only exacerbating your already agitated mind.

Catching your toe on an uneven patch in the wood had you hissing in pain. Someone was def getting cursed if you got a splinter. Actually, you'd be surprised if you made it out without one. These steps were legit grody, they barely even qualified as stairs honestly. 

Just some half termite eaten planks, driftwood more likely, definitely nothing professional, all nailed together and stuck into the side of a steep sand dune. Falling on your ass at some point was almost guaranteed- You were always a major klutz in these situations.

Shrugging your shoulder and regripping the box, at least the sand would give you a semi-soft landing whenever it happened. 

You should thank whatever beachrat made these stairs though, adjusting your grip on the box again had the jars inside clanking together, water sloshing- good thing you'd tightened the lids before leaving the shop. Thanks to these little stairs you didn’t have to miserably fail at trying your luck in midnight sand surfing. If this was midday you’d have trouble with it still- trying sand surfing now? That'd be so warped. Ugh, just imagine having to make your way back up? Now that'd be a real treat- psych. 

When both feet planted safely, and surprisingly splinter-free, in the soft sand you shook yourself into focus. No more letting your thoughts drive you, way too much negativity to unpack and you didn't need that energy seeping into your work here. Moon-water wasn’t usually the most influenceable, but you could, and with your attitude the way it was? You’d totally choke if you didn’t check yourself. No need to mess up your first job, right?

Breathing deeply you set about focusing your mind; grounding, feeling yourself coming back to a controlled center was the first step of your job here tonight. Tightening your grip and breathing in had the scent of the ocean hit you full force. With practiced ease, focusing inward had your eyes naturally drifting shut and calm settle over you. It was incredible how soothing grounding- ritual in general really, could be. 

Your next inhale highlighted the subtle undertones of the boardwalk overlaid in the breeze, an amalgamation that fused into a scent uniquely Santa Carla. Letting your energy sink deep within you, then lower down still, dropping into the earth, feeling the vibrations of your surroundings- naturally letting it mix with the energies surrounding you. The ocean was a powerful tool, you'd be a ditz to ignore its embrace. There was an unusual magnetic pull in the air, a buzz that licked against your senses.

The full moon was calling, and like the ocean, you were here to answer. 

Centered and ready to work you made your way down to the shore. Funny thing about this new coven, part of the new rules was night rituals were restricted to a single practitioner. That restriction had seemed mental to you, and frankly? You still thought they were a bit out there to bend to such restrictions, but once you learned there was a surprisingly sizable vampire pack in the area it had made more sense. Having just one practitioner was easier for accountability and all that, but like, it was still twisted.

Vampires were picky. They claimed a territory and stuck to it. Any other lucky supernatural creature was subject to their "authority". Barf me out with that attitude. If they weren't solitary, it was usually a duo, anything more than a trio was especially rare. Vampires could be mega volatile in general, but especially towards one another. The fact that there were at least four confirmed vamps in the area? Now, that piqued your interest. Their bonds had to be radically tight to stay together with any type of calm. 

Unfortunately, vampires and witches? Typically not such a hot mix. 

Vampires and magic didn't always mesh well and historically that meant witches and vampires couldn't play nice together. Funnily enough, this coven didn't go against status quo- every sister you'd met so far vehemently detested vamps. Too bad they were smackdab in the middle of fang city. 

The location being legit brill had something to do with how docile the coven acted. It said something when witches were willing to take shit and obey in order to practice. Energetically potent, magically powerful, Santa Carla was a delightful nexus. Not to mention scenic too. 

The coven was desperate for someone to be the designated night ritualist, working the store's night shift was just a caveat. The timing had worked out because you were just as desperate. You thought the whole vampire witch feud thing was lame, but it’d saved you from ex-communication, so you'd keep that tidbit to yourself. 

Vampires didn't bother you really. Well, they could, but not because the vampy bit, just the entitled attitude. Anyone could be a barf bag regardless of what they were. You'd met just as many ditzy witches as narbo vamps. You were more concerned that you'd most definitely have human tourists bombarding you every night. 

What got you though was the craziest part of the deal. When within a 15-mile radius of the boardwalk there was a restriction to strictly restorative work. Even being a nexus, you weren’t sure this place was worth neutering yourself energetically for. Sure, vampire's had their reasons, severe sensitivity to magic yada-yada, not to mention if their bond was as tight as you assumed, they probably felt active magic like nails on a chalkboard, but damn. 

You couldn’t believe the high priestess would agree to it. It really seemed the witches got the short end of the stick here. You weren’t seeing a lot of benefits for yourself. So far your opinion on the coven was….well, at this point you were half-convinced you’d joined a gaggle of ditzes. 

Having taken stock of the ingredients they had on hand a quick glance had made replenishing the monthly moon water a top priority. It was such a simple thing, very useful, super versatile, and no one in the coven had been willing to make a large batch of it. Ugh, imagine letting prejudice get in the way of making such a staple ingredient. There wasn't anything fancy that went into it. A cool head, even temper, patience, and a little prep was all that it needed. 

That’s what you were here for now, though. They could keep their dislike and eat their cake too. Still, you weren’t completely obstinate and took their warning to heart, it wasn't just the vampires that made the area witches refuse the night shift. 

Santa Carla wasn’t exactly Disneyland. Murder was a thing and it happened here daily. Nexus’s tended to have a magnetic draw. Pulling in powerful things, good things, weak things, bad things- the sheer unpredictability wasn’t a friend in this case. 

A random human could decide tonight was beach shanking night and you’d be the lucky victim. You’d like to see them try at least. Maybe one of the vampire pack would break the agreement if they were feeling a bit nippy? Doubtful if they didn’t want a war on their hands, but possible. A stray wendigo attracted to your energy feeling a midnight snack seemed more likely. Could even be a banshee needing a quick meal. Never can tell how things were going to work out. 

Knowing yourself though, you’d probably just trip up those hella grimy stairs and break your neck.

You weren’t too worried about being attacked though, honestly. You had wards in place and if it got past that, well, you'd deal with whatever it was then. No use worrying about it now. You were more than happy to take on the privilege to essentially moon bathe on the beach while funneling the energy to the water. It was good on all levels.

Walking to the area you’d scouted during the day set your mind back into focus. Setting the box down, the jars jostling while you grabbed the blanket hanging off the side of the box. Spreading it out and setting up your area had everything falling in place. The jars spread just along the outside of your circular blanket, with that done you sat yourself down in the center.

Determined to do this right you brought back that focused rooted energy. Using this as an opportunity to release some built-up tension would be a good idea too. Let the ocean wash away your bitterness with the tide and allow the moon to shift you into clarity for whatever was to come. Even if you did think your new sisters were idiots, they were to be your idiots and you had to embrace it.

As you laid there working the energy and letting it shift, you noticed a curious sensation at the edge of your perception. 

A slight tickling at the fringe of your awareness; soft, so extremely soft and subtle that if you’d just gone about your business and hadn’t been so introspective focused you’d totally have passed it over. 

Watched.  
The subtle sensation wasn’t threatening as of yet, but you were definitely being watched. By what? You weren’t sure. Getting a firm reading on it was difficult. The more you focused on the energy the further it pulled back. Pursuing it only had whoever it was slyly staying just out of your grasp. 

Definitely not human. Wouldn’t be a witch or a medium either, they’d just answer your psychic questioning. Could be a were, you’d heard they’d been in the area recently. The next brush sent a shiver down your spine and had you crossing weres off. It was definitely too silky to be one, they always felt gruffer to you, wilder. Possibly a demon, they had that shade of sensuality and always liked to follow you around in new territory. A quick flash of tightly-wound sharp control coated in a mischievous air finally spit out the answer; Vampire.

Satisfied, you dropped the pursuit and turned your attention back to the sea. Subtle brushes returning, but this time not trying to hide itself or their interest. So one of the new overlords had decided to drop in on their new subject? That was just fine as long as they stayed watching and didn’t interfere. 

You’d give it to whichever vamp this was. They had wicked nice energy. Like, once you got a read on that was. Playful, cheeky almost to a fae’s degree, brimming with an elusive danger, while still having a quiet peace underneath. That quiet calm resonated inside your own field and was exactly what you needed to settle back into your space. You didn’t hate the idea of their company so much.

You’d expected a run-in at some point, but right away? They were some go-getters to the max.

Nothing came of it though, the watcher had just been that. A watcher. When three am came, went, and passed, you’d decided to pack things up. You felt their vigilant gaze the entire time. Even after you got in your car and motored on home, it was still with you. It was only after you entered your home did their light press on your awareness leave. 

The rest of your week played out much the same. Feeling that attentive gaze in every outside ritual from start to well after the finish. Even while you were working the shop they’d pop in and out of your awareness only to settle when you were locking up for the night.

You’d tried to catch a glimpse of who your designated monitor was, but it proved an impossible task. Stealth was a vampire’s friend and this one was incredibly apt. They stayed just far enough away during ritual and on the boardwalk you were too busy entertaining space cadet humans or dealing with an actual client to seek them out. 

On that note, there was a surprising number of shapeshifters in the area, changelings especially had been a nice treat. They weren’t exactly common in Louisiana and working with them was always interesting. They required a delicate eye and full attention when diagnosing their condition. 

A shapeshifter’s physicality was entirely based on energy manipulation, so one wrong push or pull and you could injure them more than help. Pinpointing where your attentive observer was out in the crowd became annoyingly out of the question. 

They’d turn up eventually. Until then, however, you’d just have to sit tight. Lucky for you changelings had a penchant for gossiping. They’d been kind enough to give you a rundown on the pack and their opinion of them. Changelings weren’t known to have easily won loyalty, so the popular opinion on them being pretty rad, was surprising. 

They were apparently chill on the authority, which was shocking enough, but they said the pack leader, David, could be hella genial. Vampires weren’t usually described that way. Not outside of the anyone they were glamouring anyway. Maybe the coven weren’t such spazes to reside here.

Friday saw your week coming to a close. You’d woken up ready to put your first week behind you and spend the weekend really exploring the area. There was a nice hiking trail not too far away that you’d really wanted to spend some time at. A few brownies had spirited into the shop and mentioned it as a great area for herbs and ritual during conversation. 

Brewing a second cup of tea, calming herbs this time- regular humans really did get on your nerves with their incessant brainless questions and barf bag attitude. There were a few mediums that'd dropped in who you didn't mind, actually really liked, but the rest of the human race made you want to gag. Lumping witches and poor mediums into the same category didn’t seem fair.

The night was steadily cruising along. The humans came in bursts, sporadic, but manageable. Client-wise, nothing too dramatic either, the most interesting case was a few sprites suffering a nasty goblin hex. It was an easy enough fix, orders on how to use the herbs, and a cautionary chastising to leave the gobbies alone unless invited. They giggled their departure as you shook your head, sprites never learned. 

The night's energy had you listless. Only a few hours left before you could close down shop and you were antsy. No pressing ceremonies to perform tonight for the coven either, so heading straight home to open that bottle of wine you'd acquired before your arrival was on the top of the to-do list. 

Curiously, your nightly specter hadn't visited once. It was surprising how fast you'd gotten used to a vampire’s energy body. If you were honest with yourself, you'd even come to look forward to having it- him, the changelings had listed only male vampires, being a steady sensation on the outer edges of your senses. 

The absence of the strange new routine left you with an unsettled itch. Something was off, you could tell, your antsiness screamed of something about to happen, you just weren't sure what. 

The answer came not too long after that. With a lull of what you assumed to be the last customers of the night, you’d busied yourself restocking and starting to close down. High on the shelf ladder reorganizing the herb wall. It got so messy with the daily run-through of customers’ grubby hands all over it. Turning a jar forward as the bell above the door sounded. 

"Welcome! I'll be-" the energy that zapped your senses had you cut off the greeting with a sharp inhale. Thank the gods you hadn't been holding one of the glass jars, it'd be smithereens otherwise. 

The shift had hit you instantly, an electric buzz that lapped against your mental self. Giving you a clear idea of what just walked in. Four of them. They'd all come. Shifting through the sensation, trying to grasp each of their unique patterns had you stopping short when you felt your chaperone's energy reach out to you.

It wasn't just a soft prodding like usual, instead, it was like a full-body caress. More like a lick if you were honest. 

Skin tingling, electric sparks sent down your spine settling somewhere you'd rather not question right now, and if your nipples had tightened from it? Well, that was nobody's business. Beneath the shameless lick was an urge of reassurance. 

The unspoken highly nuanced language assuring you of safety. Thank the goddess you were fluent. It was odd, really, a vampire reassuring a witch of their safety? You weren't prey, not if they wanted the coven to stay placid. Even if they’d decided to attack you weren’t helpless. The kiddie gloves would come off quicker than lightning and then they’d see what was up. 

They’d definitely break you, but you’d do some damage. So there wasn't any rhyme or reason to make you feel safe or calmed. Nothing you could think of except for your own peace of mind. It had a giggle bubbling up, but you clamped down before it could escape. 

You appreciate the sentiment regardless and dragged your energy against his in return, showing your mirth, and if he was apt enough to recognize the instant anxiety their entrance caused, he'd feel the praise underneath.

Taking a deep inhale before steeling yourself. You'd anticipated that it was only a matter of time before a meeting. The high priestess had said it’d come at some point when they felt ready, so you were decidedly not going to freak out and treat them like any other customer. Even if one of them had already made your nipples pebble. 

You were also so ready to end the mystery of what your babysitter looked like. Putting a face to, well not a name, but an energetic signature rather. Stepping down from the ladder you made your way towards the front counter. 

They were milling about between aisle shelving so getting a clear look wasn’t working. You could see bits of hair, flashes of leather, and hear their banter- typical dudes messing with each other. You were right, hearing how affable they were with each other solidified that they def have a legit bond.

Waiting another minute behind that counter still hadn’t made them come to you. Sighing before you decided to speak up, "What can I help you with tonight?" That had the laughter in the back trickle off before a rumbling voice spoke out, "Many things, maybe nothing. Depends on what you're offering." He hadn’t needed to emerge from the aisle for you to feel the leer paired with that statement. Ah, so David was the edgy type. You could work with that. 

What you might stumble over though, was just how pretty they all were.

Don't get it wrong, Vampires were supposed to be attractive, it was part of their thing. A magnetic and alluring shift happened to them all when they were turned, but this? This was on another level. 

The vague memory of lessons from your old covens compendium on vampiric lore came to mind. It’d stated the first vampire came into existence born by way of an incubus mingling in a maenads rites with a medium. Their resulting child the first vampire. 

Who knew how accurate those stories were, the compendium was specific to each coven; an enduring collection of their line of knowledge, but authenticity was always questionable.

Looking at them all as they emerged- really made you believe there was some weighted truth to the legend. Incubus certainly seemed like it was mingled up in them. You’d been gifted by a few incubi once upon a time and the similarities between them and these boys? Striking. Between their movements, their magnetic presences, and the brazen way they gazed at you. 

The vampires in Louisiana were all charming, but it was all a subtle compulsion. It didn’t help that they typically had a bad attitude mixed with antiquated style. They just never appealed to you.

This pack, however, seems like they’d had no problem keeping up with pop culture. Embracing it wholeheartedly, one of them looked like he moonlighted in poison for crying out loud. Maybe they were young, but you got a vibe that hinted otherwise. More like they were adaptable.

Trying to keep a straight face, professionalism and all that, was difficult, but doable. At least you thought it was, but once you locked eyes with a pair of soulful hazel- there was no doubt that they all felt the psychic warble you let slip accidentally. 

He’d been the elusive watcher this week. There wasn’t a question about it, a perfect face to match his auric self. The breath you’d been holding choked out when he broke into an impish grin followed by what was essentially another playful full-body kiss. 

You swore you could hear a purr resound in your mind. The three subordinates chuckled when you drew in a sharp intake. 

“Marko.” David's tenor was soft, but firm. Marko? Cute. Without breaking eye contact, his smile widened mischievously while he raised both hands in surrender. The undivided attention was unsettling in all the right ways. 

Sparking a heat that undulated throughout you. Tabling that information to the back of your mind, you broke the gaze. Needed to if you were going to have any kind of brain function for conversation.

Turning to the de facto leader you sized him up. Or tried to. Definitely threatening, actively making it hard to read him. On the surface he felt like a cold blade; sharp, decisive, piercing. 

Good qualities for a leader you supposed, but like, damn, that didn’t sate your curiosity. If he wasn’t going to work with you then that only left the boring way, “David, I presume?”

He raised a brow with a pleased look, “Good. The little crone knows who matters around here.” Bo-guuus, edgy with an attitude. Those changelings either lied or were talking about someone different because genial? You weren’t seeing it. Aiming an unimpressed look paired with a, “Mmhmm” brought a chuckle of his own. 

Waiting for him to speak again seemed like the best option, you weren’t very good at small talk, and Marko was still so very distracting. After David’s chiding, he really hadn’t let up much. He might not be doing that lick thing with the delightful heat, but what he was doing wasn’t far off. 

Going out of his way to make sure a large portion of your attention was still focused on him by continually baiting you; almost like energetic petting. If you weren’t trying to have a serious conversation you’d bask in the new attention. You weren’t a cat, but you imagined this is what they must have felt like. Psychic flirting was always fun, but his attention had it quickly becoming your favorite. 

With him doing it in front of his pack though? Any sensible person, witch especially should be uncomfortable. Totally pissed if not outraged- it was definitely a claim, unnervingly possessive, and you shouldn’t like the blatant territorial display, but for some reason, it stroked something deep in your harebrain that majorly worked for you.

Before you could drop down that rabbit hole further David brought you back, “You’ve been a busy little witch this past week.” Annoyance fluttered in, what’d he expect? There hadn’t been a night ritualist for over a year. There was a lot of work to do, some things just couldn’t be done during the day. 

You shrugged “Ha, massive understatement. New coven, new clients, way too many neglected things to catch up on. Seems like you should thank me for taking over.” 

The look he gave you was piercing and indiscernible. You weren’t really sure where you stood with him. You hadn’t done anything to step out of the bounds they’d placed on you, but somehow with the look he was leveling at you begged the question, had you? 

Mentally retracing your week yielded nothing. Hadn’t even tried to hex anyone, even that human who’d cut you off on your drive in Wednesday night, now that’d been difficult. Was this why you’d had such heavy surveillance? Not that you’d minded, but here you thought it was just your shining personality. 

“Keep it up. The community needs a witch with some spine.” Maybe you’d spoke too soon, he might not be so bad. 

“I wasn’t so sure about you. Word on the street and all.” That had you freeze. Not even Marko’s continued attention phased you. There was no way he knew anything. That was impossible. Your new coven didn’t know, your old coven wouldn't dare let anything slip- it wouldn’t just be you who lost face. 

There was no way anyone knew anything about you or why you’d moved. It had to be a bluff, a well aimed taunt. It was common knowledge that witches rarely transferred covens, it happened for a multitude of reasons- good, bad, ugly. He was just being a dickhead, a nosy dickhead. 

Forcing a calm mask even though you were sure they could all hear your rapid heartbeat, trying not to play into his bait, “Oh? Word on the street? I have a rep already? Bitchin’.” 

Anxiety was a mega issue for you, so not having a cow and playing it as chill as you did? A total moment for you. clammy hands, rapid heartbeat, clenched jaw and all. That pulled a laugh out of Marko and the hair band look-alike while David and the clydesdale in the back wore smirks. 

“Word is the new witch isn’t from the clique. Never can tell what you little hags are planning, bringing in new blood?” He leaned forward across the counter catching you with his piercing blues, “That has trouble written all over it.” 

You were slow to process what he’d actually said, too caught up in how the light glinted off his pretty eyes. There was no denying it, so you didn’t try, “For sure,” but on second thought you didn’t want to make it sound like you were here to start shit, “but change isn’t always bad.” 

He tapped the glass of the counter before he pushed off, “We’ll see about that, little hag”. That must have been the signal to leave because he’d started walking towards the door with the silent type in his shadow. 

Marko hadn’t moved, hadn’t dropped his attention and you were nervous to return it. Too likely to get caught up in something now that they were all leaving. You liked it, but it was still like mega nerve-racking. 

Before you could work up the confidence to engage with whatever that was, the taller blonde slapped his shoulder, “I like this chick! She’s got some spunk!” 

He made to push away from the vampire still comfortably leaning against the counter, but something had caught your eye. Without thinking, your hand shot out like a viper to grip his wrist before he could walk any further away, “Wait up!” Marko’s purr, or whatever that buzz he was coating you in suddenly sputtered out.

With everyone’s attention returning, you dropped the skin contact and made your way around the counter. Standing in front of him while quickly giving him a psychic once over. His tallness made it very inconvenient to look for the physical indicator of what you suspected. With a yank to his shoulder, you spoke before you really thought how it’d be taken, “Bend down and show me your teeth.”


	2. Blood Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The smut

The vampire in your grasp sputtered before holding up his hands, “Whoa, Babe! You gotta take me out first.” Marko’s attentiveness became ridged against you. A mix of disbelief and something a little more vicious. 

Ooo, was that jealousy? Stellar. Without really meaning to, you mentally reached out to soothe him. Maybe it was because you’d come to enjoy his presence mingling with yours, could be that you didn’t like distress overtaking his calm, or if you stopped trying to lie to yourself it was a simple truth that something about him just drew you in. Not the typical vampire seduction either. There was a deeper connection that you couldn’t shake or figure out. Just like a little moth to his sparkling torch. 

Paul's hands had started to creep down your arms, with an eye roll, “As if! Get real, bag face!” His heckles instantly rose at your choice of words, but the twist of glee you felt wrap around you said it was totally worth it, “Hey! Babe, that’s just mad warped!” You cut him off before he could go on, “Take a chill pill, man. Somethings off with you, I need to see your teeth.” 

That seemed to calm him enough to partially listen to your request, “Come on, I don't really peg you as shy. Go all vampy so I can check. You might think I do, but I really don’t have all night.” He huffed out a laugh, “Like, gimme a minute. Never had a chick just demand to see my fangs. I gotta savor this.” 

The sudden chuckle next to you caught you off guard, “Don’t mind him, Pauly just hasn’t had his fangs wet in a while.” There was a shift in the air as he sidled up next to you. Electric. It was probably all in your head, but the closer proximity definitely made it harder to breath. There was an effortless way he could draw your focus. 

Glamour didn’t really work on witches, maybe a baby witch, but not one like you. The ease at which he could pull you in said otherwise though. That was it, this, he had to be part of your punishment somehow. A god or goddess had to be fucking with you because it was unnatural the way he pulled your attention. You weren’t a novice, this didn’t just happen. Still, you had to try to block out the lure and focus on what was up with this goof in front of you. Ignoring him was unnecessarily draining. 

With a quick mental peptalk you looked up to lock gazes. He’d staring ready and waiting, “Oh? He’s been peckish? Testy? Unable to sleep even if he's compelled under?” Tilting his head as the twinkle in Marko’s gaze morphed into something more serious. A tense moment passed while the sharp scrutiny from behind heightened. It seemed like Marko was contemplating something, glancing up, Paul had the same look. 

Oh, yes way, they can talk. That’s fuckin’ rad! You wondered about the logistics of it. How much was shared? Was it like how you could read and speak through energy? Was it more like audient mediumship? Demonic communication? It was legit uncommon, but with their bond the way it seemed, it wasn’t totally surprising. Still unexpected but righteous. Marko broke you from your musing with his subtle movement of an affirming nod. You sighed while watching him bringing his thumb to his mouth nibbling on the nail. Nervous habit?  
If you could just get Paul to bring out his fangs you were pretty sure you knew what was up. It wouldn’t go over well, that was for sure, but if you were right there was no way you could just leave it. When he still hadn’t shifted you gave him an exasperated and unimpressed look that implied, “well?” but on another psychic perusal with a more thorough glance let you in on what the hold up was. 

Oh! He’s having a hard time shifting. Poor vampy. Your gaze softened as your lips purse, when he looked up and away you could tell he knew that you knew and that had him embarrassed. Bruised ego aside, this was more serious than you’d guessed if it was affecting his change- had probably festered for months. 

If it was that much of an issue you wouldn’t push it, didn’t need to. There were other ways to check, they were just a bit messier. Releasing him and turning towards the back of the shop, you spoke up to answer the silent question, “Forget about it, stud. Just follow me.” Your fingers grazed against Marko's as you turned. Breath suddenly sucked from your lungs as he trailed his fingers down your palm and up your arm as you passed. Clearing your throat as you guided them to a table setup with a myriad of items. 

“Hang here for a sec,” turning on your heel into the discreet room off to the side before they could question your further. You were gone for maybe a whole of 10 seconds before you reemerged with an egg. Holding it outstretched to him, “Crack this in that over there.” pointing to a crystal bowl central to the table’s orientation. 

Before he could take it from you, David caught your wrist in a tight grip. The leather cold against your skin, in a growl, “What’re you playing at here?” His intense gaze solidly impenetrable, but that was enough to understand him. He’s protective. That's so sweet...probably what those changelings actually meant. That had your lips twitch into not quite a smile but more than a smirk. It was cute, he was worried for his pack. Hella refreshing opposed to vampire bickering, “You said the community needs me. Well, you’re all part of that community.” 

His gaze didn’t change, so you went on, “Paul here totally needs a hand. Like, you should have come in sooner. I mean, from what I’ve seen of my new sisters, they’re not the friendliest, but like, damn, this is serious.” You still mustn’t have convinced David because his brow creased into a sneer and while he growled. Marko’s calming reassurance was the only thing stopping your rising anxiety from making you panic. 

It was Paul himself that diffused whatever was about to happen, “It's ok, man. I’m good with it.” Another scathing look before you felt the leather of his glove leave you, “Careful, Hag.” The resistance was plain in his voice, but he still stepped off to the side and allowed Paul to take the offered egg. 

He rolled it around his palm before tossing it in the air once. You sputtered in exasperation, leave it to the headbanger to draw this out, “Like fuck’n A, dude! It’s just an egg, don’t drop it.” Grumbling at his now delighted expression like you’d just given him the key to the blood bank, “I swear by the gods I’ll be mega pissed if you make me clean up another mess today.” Tossing it up once again after your warning with a defiant smirk before he relented, shrugged, and finally cracked it in the specified area. 

Setting the empty shell on the table as you looked into the bowl. Cursing when you saw what should have been a healthy yolk a congealed clotted bloody mess. Paul marveled at it though, “Whoa! That’s wicked.” 

Huffing out a laugh as you pushed through the little group to make your way to the herb wall, “Like, sure, if you mean wickedly nasty. That’s a bogus blood curse you’re rocking.” There was a hiss at the revelation, weren’t sure from who, didn’t really care to look. 

“From the looks of it, I’d say it's been incubating for at least half a year. Probably longer.” Grabbing a few of the smaller jars before making your way back over to the altar, setting your items down, you grabbed the discarded shell and popped a piece into your mouth. It was unconventional, but you needed a better read on the hex and this was the quickest way.

Scrunching your features in disgust, you scoffed a laugh of disbelief as you disappeared into the back once again. From the private room you continued, “You’re, like, a total airhead, ya know. This isn’t just a normal generic blood curse.” 

Emerging from the private room struggling to carry a few larger, heavier jars had Marko and the still unnamed silent one instantly at your side taking them off your hands. A pleasant warmth spread in your chest at the gesture. There was no stopping the smile that broke across your face watching the two of them set the jars down next to the others. When Marko turned back around you realized you’d been standing there shamelessly staring while they were all waiting expectantly. 

With burning cheeks you looked back up to Paul, “You need to chill before scarfing down meals.” The longer you spent with his energy, the easier it was to see the inner workings of the spell. Turning away from them to the table, “You ate a witch.” Instantly the air became galvanized with quiet growls as someone screeched something unintelligible, Paul? probably. Ignoring it as you reached for a few other items on a shelf next to the table, “Seems like she was a total bitch of a witch too. Mega hate for your species. That’s legit a very specific, very slow hellacious blood curse.” 

Opening the jars and mixing the appropriate herbs into the bowl with the egg, “Like, whoever she was, she had some major damage to go this far.” capping a few lids before stirring the mixture, “Like, just walking around with this hex warded in her blood? Gag me out the door. I don’t even want to know how mung her psyche was.” Burning a herb and letting the ashes fall into the mixture, “It's super complicated, but basically meant to slowly drive you insane. You’ll start to starve, go into frenzies, have blocks, like problems shifting...just totally derails you from the inside out.” 

Clapping above the bowl three times before mixing, “You’d become a shell of yourself. Eventually, at some point, you’d off yourself if someone doesn’t do it sooner.” Working quickly as the temperature suddenly plummeted, you could feel someone hovering behind you, the cutting chill that washed over you said exactly who, “Fix it.” 

The threat was plain and if you weren't already convinced of your safety it’d have made you falter, but instead, confidence unshaken, your eyes rolled, duuuh, “No doy. What’s it look like I'm doing?” Pinning him a look of irritation over your shoulder, “You think I’m just mixing this all up for fun?” The look David gave you was frigid, razor sharp, and lethal. The yellow bleeding into his iris’s told you the thin ice you were walking on. It was your new fascination that pulled his attention away, “I’ve got a good read on her, she’s clutch.” He looked at you with a grin, “Isn’t that right, Pixie?” 

Pix...ie?! Oh my gods, he has a pet name picked out?! Pixies were cute tiny little things, troublemakers, but playful and ethereal. Being compared to them was mega flattering and had the blush that’d died down flare back to life. Trying to play it cool seemed almost useless, but it was the only thing to keep you from choking on your own embarrassment, “Most definitely.” That full body graze he seemed fond of was back and so were the shivers down your spine. The heat that settled between your legs distracting you from the threat of David. 

Swiftly turning back to finish what you’d started, a slight slip in catching the bashful keen before it left your throat. Your small sound broke the tension, air lightening with the rich snigger from tall, dark, and handsome besides Paul.

Trying to cover your embarrassment you had to say something, “You’re just lucky I’m excellent at hex breaking. It’s not as common as you’d think.” The wary silence was calming as you worked. It didn’t take you much more before you were scooping herbs into their designated bags. 

Grabbing the three weighty items you turned to face the group. Holding out the largest of the three, “This is witches salt, you need to soak in this every night,” The disgusted noise he snorted out let you know just what he thought, “Freak out all you want, but soak in it every night, for two weeks, no exceptions.” 

Holding out the second bag containing the mixture you’d just made, “This is gonna be mad wack, but you need to mix it with some sea water, swish it for 13 minutes at minimum. Two weeks again. It’ll force the hex from you and clear the blocks.” A beat of silence passed before, “...I’m rethinkin’ what I said, you’re kinda mad lame.” That made you snort in laughter, “Don’t ralph on me now, you’re the fangface that ate someone he shouldn’t have...Oh, and no swallowing.”

The snicker had you confused for a second before you realized the slight innuendo, “Like, you’re all just a bunch of dweebs, you know that?” Paul lost his earlier disgust quickly, replaced with a leer, “It's good to know what you’re into, Babe.” Scoffing at his quip, “Ugh! Not even! Just pay attention, you dipstick.” 

He mumbled a quick, “You’re the one that said it,” before you held out the last bag, “Brew a tea with this and have a cup a day. It’ll help settle everything into place quicker and get you back to normal.” There wasn’t really any protesting for this one, but you had to make sure he didn’t cut corners, “And I mean like proper tea, not mixed in like blood, or beer, or something. Before you ask, absolutely no recreational substances. I don't need them complicating anything.” 

The sound he made was like you’d wounded an animal. That's what got the most outrage from him? A total hessian wannabe, “It’s official, you’re the biggest Joanie of the century.” Shrugging as you walked to the counter to bag it all, “Tough, don’t have a cow just because you can’t taste the difference between like, ecstasy and a hex, refine your palate or something.” by the time you finished writing out the simple instructions you’d listed off, just in case they forgot, and bagged it up, they were all at the counter again. 

No longer having something to keep occupied with, the full force of their scrutinizing gaze made your palms clammy. Paul was the safest to look at while he took the neatly tied bag, “What’d I owe ya?” You waved him off, “No worries, on the house.” Paul’s quickly made a pair of horns with one hand before he took the package, “Metal! You’re a total ace, Babe!” His flip-flop in attitudes made you laugh, it was nice to have some light hearted banter instead of mega intense 24/7. The skeptical brow raise from David brought you back down, waiting for an explanation, “Like I said, change isn’t all bad. Call it good faith or whatever.”

The glint in his eyes didn’t change, but it must have been satisfactory enough. Turning away he whistled out a command, “We’ll be around, little hag.” Shuffling around until Marko was the last to slowly peel away from the counter. 

He was enigmatic, you couldn’t get a full grasp on what he was thinking, but Gods was he a picture of perfection; Full grin, gaze mischievously burning into your core, nail biting as his steady pressure brushed against you in that disgustingly sensual way one last time, “Later, Pixie.” 

Your breath shuddered through you, how was he so good with energy like that? Vampires could manipulate it to a point, get a vague read and feel for it, sure, but not to that level. He was so nuanced with it, made it look so easy.

He was deadly. Mega fine, but outrageously cheeky. Rolling your eyes didn’t cover the dopey grin that spread across your lips against your will. He was so forward too- it was delightfully fresh compared to the normal anxious fretting you always found yourself doing in these situations. 

Internal reassurance of how you didn’t need anyone's approval and what a treasure you’d be for a lucky someone only fueled your confidence to a point. You didn’t have to wonder about his intentions, he was clearly down to bang at least.

“David,” He paused, hand on the door, “The witch, she wasn’t coven...so if I totally forget to mention this at my weekly debrief, well…” Trailing off with a shrug. You didn’t think there was a need to spell it out for him. If whoever this witch was even had a coven they didn’t care because no retribution at this point spoke volumes. As far as you were concerned that meant there wasn't a need to shake up any trouble now. You saw his fist tighten on the door handle and heard him mutter, “Good faith, huh?” 

Then they were out as quickly as they’d come, watching through the window you could see the row of bikes they walked to. Guess all that leather isn’t just for looks, they actually ride? Rad.   
They must have felt your eyes on them because they made a show of getting on their bikes, being loud enough with their obnoxious bantering that you could hear them from here. 

Watching their playful jabs at each other had you shaking your head-- they were totally metal. How did a pack of vampires have such a good relationship? It was so strange. Thinking back on the whole interaction didn’t give you any clues how they were so dope.

The normal volatile attitude was completely absent. Even though David had you on edge, you’d classify him more as intense. Defensive even, rather than outright vicious. The one you still didn’t have a name for was quiet, stoic, but a really calm, steady energy, with a kind feel to him. Paul had a mad fun vibe, a metalhead that totally lived for the party. And Marko, well Marko was something else entirely. 

Groaning as they rode off, the realization dawned on you that after this meeting your nightly vigil would probably disappear. You’d get some sort of checkup for sure, the occasional pop in and make sure you're keeping to their terms, but the frequency? You couldn’t see that being a priority unless you’d totally blown this meeting. Which somehow you doubted. 

Maybe Marko would go out of his way to keep tabs on you? After all, he seemed pretty into you...if only you were that lucky. Ignoring the sinking feeling rising in your chest you quickly busied yourself with cleaning up. 

It still wasn’t exactly closing time yet, but close enough. There had already been a lull before they’d come in, you didn’t see that changing even though you’d gotten a second wind. Thinking about the extra mess from the altar to clean you moaned in annoyance. Damn, if only you’d ask one of them to put the salt back, that was the most tedious and heaviest jar. Like they’d even do it if you asked...but maybe…

Exhaling, Whatever. Better not to dwell on it.

Pushing it out of your mind until you could be in the comfort of your home to nitpick and overthink the whole interaction. Grabbing a cloth from behind the counter you went about the closing duties. Eager to get home and really open that bottle of wine. It was def what you needed after tonight. That and a nice long soak in the bath, some meditation, and preping for that trail exploration tomorrow. A nice early turn in for tonight- early for you anyways.

Closing down was quick. No customers like you’d foreseen and if you closed the shop 10 minutes early, that was just another secret you'd be keeping to yourself. The walk to your car was quick, but in classic klutz fashion you dropped your keys in the process of trying to put it in the lock. Fumbling around the damp asphalt like a ditz wasn’t a good look for you. 

The shrill whistle that cut through the brisk night air begged to differ. Raising your gaze in annoyance towards the direction of the cat call, you found a small group of scumbag koozbanes leaning against the railing. Unimpressed with their crude gestures you really cursed the restrictions. Wishing you could send a nice little curse their way, but no, you had some bogus inconvenient rules.

Finally grabbing your keys and quickly straightening, you sent the group a nice parting message of your middle finger with a yell of, “Bite me!”. The angry jeering they let out wasn't happy, but entering your car cut off their cries. 

That wine was sounding more and more like a godsend. Sending a quick thanks to Dionysus on your drive home. He must have known how bad you’d need this and influenced your choice of the purchase.

At least the drive home was peaceful.

When morning came you were excited to finally get out of this sanctioned zone. Packing a small backpack with a variety of things- both for normal hiking and more esoteric purposes. The area was a little over 20 miles away, so absolutely no disgusting restriction on any magic. Thank the gods. You'd been itching for something with a bit more bite. Let those punks catcall me there. 

You wanted to check the herbs of the area too. Collecting fresh batches to use or dry was always something you’d enjoyed. Plus, if you liked the energy? who knows what you might get up to. With that in mind you packed a blanket, some energy bars, fruits, bags of ingredients, your mobile altar items, and a few other things just in case. Nothing too heavy, but everything you could think of needing. 

Arriving just before midday was perfect. The weather wasn’t too hot yet, but the chill of the morning had worn off. Exploring was exactly what you'd needed. Feeling the natural energy of the area and learning how it melded had taken a backseat all week. It was nice just to feel without any expectations of having to use it. 

There were so many fresh herbs here too, mugwort, a favorite of yours, was sprinkled abundantly around the woods. You really had to thank those brownies- on that thought you made a mental note to leave a cream offering tonight. The fae in the territory had welcomed you in. 

Fae and elementals could be tricky, a penchant for mischievousness, but generally they played nice with you. Especially the Seelie court, they'd told you that your aura was different, more like theirs and they enjoyed your presence, especially during energy manipulation. Unseelie were a little more wishy washy, but usually didn’t have many qualms. It helped that you worked with Cailleach and Loki regularly, so mischievous chaotic energy wasn’t foreign to you- probably the major player on why they liked you.

They’d been helpful in your search of plants. A few even pointed out ones they thought you’d be fond of while others were content to watch from a distance. Their energy mixed with the high vibrations of the area had a revitalizing effect. You could feel yourself relaxing into the timbre of the land, feeling the joy they cultivated for the continued growth of the vegetation. It was a sweet vibration you were happy to let wash over you.

Taking a small break around midafternoon before you were about ready to call it a day. Standing with that intention in mind before an overwhelming nagging feeling kicked in. Something telling you to keep pushing forward- just a gut instinct that you were compelled to listen to. Making a snap decision to trust it and listen to that urge, letting it guide you forward. Not long after the vibration of the land changed. Shifting into a sharper energy- vibrant with a strong grasp. It was reaching out to you, calling attention to itself.

Coming to a sudden stop, you searched out where the pull was originating. Letting your senses overtake you before an image of a field flashed before your eyes. The land was asking you to find it. Not sure why, now, or what would come of it, the compulsion to listen was strong enough even without your natural curiosity. 

The fae had quieted, watching your pursuit, as if you were on some sort of trial. On second thought you could tell there was a test here. They might not be the perpetrators, but they were accomplices to whatever was leading you. If you reached out towards them questioningly they pulled back, not willing to assist. 

Finding yourself deeper and deeper in the woods, unconcerned about getting lost, the only thing that consumed you was finding the field you’d seen. It was reaching for you and there was no way, like, no way you were leaving without finding it.

Closing your eyes and just letting that feeling wash over you. Connecting to it and letting it guide you. It was like a live wire, you could feel its pulse matching in time with yours. Then the tree-line gave way. The image you’d been gifted, there before your eyes. 

A perfect circular field. Echinacea flowering sporadically, grass lush, nothing other than an unnatural rock formation marked the land. The power that flowed within the circle was almost overwhelming- Old. So old, while still irresistibly potent, strong, prickly, by all means it was otherworldly. 

“It’s a gate,” rang across your mind from a disembodied voice. This area was a gateway and from the feel of it, an old one. You hadn’t expected this when the brownies had said it was a good place for rituals. That was an understatement. This place hummed with energy. It wasn’t just good, it was mad stellar for anything. 

Nexuses were powerful, amplifying everything in its grasp. But here? A gate meant that the veil between worlds- dimensions, was basically non-existent. It was majorly different than a nexus, different purposes, but it was just as potent. Only it didn't have the danger of your energy becoming unpredictable from the boost in power. Difficult spells that required hefty amounts of energy? A nexus could give you the power you needed, but a gate meant that same spell didn’t require that in the first place. Summonings would be fantastic here. Communing with whatever god, being, or creature would be so awesome here!

No wonder the fae were so present. They were known guardians for things like this. A gate meant an easy way into their dimension- they were picky on who they let come and go, they’d police the area without outside prompting. 

Stepping foot into the area was like breathing underwater. The sensation being oppressive yet deadly freeing. As it washed through you the rich flow felt alive, almost scorching the land. Summonings, sacrifices, and offerings took place here on the regular. 

The thrum in the air drew your gaze to the unnatural rock formation, it was just off center. Walking felt odd, almost as if you weren’t completely in your own body, disjointed and disconnected. Reaching the center before you realized had a new sensation fill you. Lightheadedness overtaking in the mix of disconnected feel. Without thinking you reached out to the stone, when your fingers made contact with the rough slab, an electric zap tingled throughout your body. 

There wasn’t any real pain, just a wash of sensations and images in your mind's eye. The rock was warm beneath your hand as you smoothed it across the surface. Ceremonies, rituals, and summonings passed behind your eyes. A lamia had been the last to sacrifice here- suddenly you knew what you’d find on the other side. Tracing your hand over the ley lines carved into the stone, you made your way around it. An open air altar greeted you. 

Sigils were carved into the bedrock of the structure, imbued with power and purpose. Blood, both old and new, was splattered haphazardly across the pillar trailing off into the soil beneath. Candles decorated the edges, framing a stone bowl, which was brimming with blood. Trialing your fingers around the rim before dipping them inside- still fresh. The stone kept the blood warm enough for it to stay liquid, but it hadn't been here long. Behind the bowl sat a severed white stag head, bloody markings traced into its fur. 

This was old magic. You could feel the thrum of it surrounding the stone, pouring into you. Blood magic wasn’t something readily taught, your coven hadn’t been partial to it, not quite condemning it, but there was always a stern frown when coming across it. You had always found it enticing. Liking the way the energy bled into yours and how power was traded. 

Without another thought you set your pack down before rolling up your pant legs and pulling off your shoes along with your socks. The out of body feeling was still vibrant, the stone had helped ground you, but you needed to feel the soil beneath you to really come back to center. Digging your toes in the rich soil still wasn’t enough, needing the connection to the Earth you shook out of your shirt too. Halter bralette on display as you laid back into the soil. The prickles of grass against your skin, fingers running through the blades as you saw more flashes in your mind of past rituals. 

You weren’t sure how long you laid there in quasi-meditation, but when you opened your eyes again the sun was well past set and you were shrouded in darkness. The field was alive with the sounds of the fae distantly frolicing, crickets, the sound of the wind through the trees, the caw of a crow brought the need to make an offering of your own. You had been meaning to thank The Morrígan and with their emissary here, it seemed to be fate. 

With no concern of how you’d find your way back to your car, or when you’d come to that decision, you moved to set up a more comfortable area. Taking the blanket from your bag and spreading it in front of the altar before pulling out the other ceremonial items you’d brought with you. Setting up the candles you’d brought along before lighting them and the few that were on the altar itself. 

Adding your own sigil to the mix came next. You could piggyback off the still active ritual, it just required a delicate touch. It was fresh, so fresh that it’d must have taken place not long before you’d been guided to the field. The energy buzzed that it was amenable to it either way.

Taking your athame you nicked your finger. Letting a few drops sink into the soil, marring the land with your own unique signature. Drawing your personal sigil along with the Celtic one you’d been taught associated with the goddesses, infusing your intentions and vibrations within it.

You sprinkle some of the herbs you'd collected, adding them to mix. Picking up some incense, you lit it with your invocation to the goddesses. The Morrígan had been the god you’d felt most drawn to working with during everything back in Louisiana, a lifeline of sorts. If you were really going to put it all behind you, then it only felt right to give an oblation. 

Shallowly slicing your palm with a practiced grace to allow blood to fall down your palm and into the full basin. Old mixing with new, you could feel the sway in the energy as the two melded together. The way the mixture sang and heeded your appeal was totally electric. Dipping your forefingers in before dragging them from your third eye, down the bridge of your nose, over your lips, chin, and down your throat to the center of your chest. 

The Raven’s caw drew your eye in its direction. Black wings in the dark weren’t an easy thing to spot, but the shadow of it blocking out the light of the stars was a good indication of where it flew. Passing overhead letting you know the Morrígan was here, heard you, and they were watching, waiting. Trying to follow its path to its new perch opposite where it’d been suddenly had you freeze, breath caught in the back of your throat.

Sitting quietly at the edge of the clearing just under where the crow had vanished was a figure. Looking for all the world content to just lounge. Not a fae, the space around them like a void. A hole in the otherwise flowing blanket. That couldn’t be right...your eyes were adjusted enough to the night, but you had to be imagining who you thought was sitting there.

Absolutely no way, like not even a chance that Marko would be anywhere near here right now, much less seeking you out so far from the boardwalk. The longer you stare at the apparition the more you could make out his distinct features. From the curl of his hair to the shape of that unique jacket, it was him. In appearance at least.

The Morrígan must have been manifesting your newest fascination, treating you to facing your desire. It wouldn't be the first time a god had shown you what was in your heart. You silently acknowledge the want, hoping the silhouette would disappear because the other option of him actually being here...It played havoc on your nerves. It didn’t make sense for him to be here though, a vampire def shouldn’t be anywhere near here. Even in your dreams where he’d actually seek you out, the wild energy this close would be like a hot iron sizzling against his psyche. 

The sound of your heartbeat drowned out the sounds of nature around you. The chirp of a cricket, buzz of a cicada, you couldn’t hear any of it over the rush in your ears. Blood steadily dripped down your palm turning icy against your fingertips despite the pleasant heat of the night. The drops of blood shouldn’t make an audible noise in reality, but somehow you swore it was the only thing you could hear over your heart. If Marko was here and he somehow was able to stand the scratching inside his skull, this could be a dangerous situation for you. 

Had he eaten? That was the most pressing question. At least you still had brain function...somewhat. Blood was in the air, a large amount of blood too. Sure, much of it was animal, but that could still set a vampire on edge. Adding your blood to the mix? Could be asking for a frenzy. 

Watching the way he languidly stood had doubt clouding your mind. So far everything you’d seen with this pack was odd. They went against the ordinary standards you were used to, surprising you every time time you learned more about them. You didn't see him becoming predictable now.

The delicious press of his energy against yours was decidedly absent. It was unnerving. 

Forcing yourself to find your voice, you croaked, “...What,” Voice cracking, clearing your throat before trying again, “What are you doing here?” There was only a slight tremor to it. Nothing too noticeable. Hopefully he’d be distracted by the blood scent or the pounding in your chest instead. The slight tilt to his head said he'd heard you...the pattering in your chest picked up again. He could still be a figment, but it seemed less likely by the minute. 

Lazily shrugging before his voice rang out, "It's our territory." That shattered the idea of him being a projection by the goddesses- more that they'd only wanted you to notice him. "I could ask what's happen’en here," The silky chuckle told you all you needed to know. That cute grin had to be plastered on his face, imagining it was almost enough to make you weak in the knees. He was lively, but some how still chill, like he wasn't bothered by the scent of blood or the spastic aura of the place, "But I’m down with it." 

When he breached the field without issue confusion filled you equally as much as you were mesmerized by the way he slinked towards you. Coming closer, the flicker of the candles helped illuminate his features. Angelically deceptive, eyes lit with a predatory look, and the upward tilt of his lip didn't give his thoughts away, "So...Which god we appeasin’, Pixie?" 

You barely registered his question. He was so close, less that an arms length away and the soft candle light emphasized his features in all the right ways. When you hadn't answered he let out a soft snicker, "Come on, babe, don't leave me hangin’. Who'd you get all delicious for?" The shift in his eyes when he'd said delicious flickered against the shadows of the candles- not the hunger of a vampire, but something more intimate- familiar, a look that sent heat straight down your spine. 

Trying to reign in your chaotic mind the only answer you could spit out was, "Jealous?" Without missing a beat he cracked the mischievous grin, "Most definitely." 

If his look had sent heat, his words shot an electric pulse straight to your clit. Nipples pebbling against the fabric of your bra. Without really registering it, you felt yourself ask, "Of me or the god?" You didn't think his grin could get any wider as his gaze became impossibly dark, "Maybe both." You hadn't expected that. Hadn't expected an answer, weren't even sure why you'd asked it. A thoughtless comeback, but the answer still left you confused, why would he be jealous really? 

The question must have been plain on your face because he answered without prompting. He reached forward and traced the line of blood from your throat to chest, light touches, but it left a trail blazing, "If you were mine," breath stuttering at the possessiveness coating his words, "I'd show you how you're meant to be worshipped, Babe. Anything you’d want until you're totally satisfied." 

His fingers trailed lower between your breast, his gaze dragging down with it. Brushing over your stomach, muscles clenching involuntary, until his fingertips fell away altogether. Heat bloomed low in your stomach, you could feel your clit pulse again. His light touch enough to get you wet, but the mental image from his words sealed the deal. Him on his knees, between your legs, pleasing you had dangerous things happening between your legs.

Drawing in a breath trying to think of something to follow that with, but all you were drawing was a blank. You really were terrible at small talk, talking in general outside of explaining a ritual or your craft, honestly. The continued images of him in your mind’s eye not helping your case either. 

Shaking your head to try and knock some sense into you long enough to answer. What you came out with was more combative than you'd meant, "Shouldn't you be on the boardwalk scrapin' or like terrorizing whichever human juicebox is for breakfast?" 

His eyes hadn't lost that liquid heat quality, the raise of his soft brow and smile spoke volumes- challenging, "I think you like me here with you better." Frowning up at him, were you really that transparent. Yeah, you def were, but you didn’t want to admit it outright to him. Not yet, "I'm a witch, remember," the exaggeration in your voice stressing the sarcasm, "and you're a fangface. We don't mix well."

"Ooo, cold, but lying doesn't look good on you, Pixie." He didn't know you at all, "I think you’re hella down with us." Or maybe…. "Just don't let your coven know you'd let me sink my fangs in for a taste if I ask nice." Or maybe he really did know you. Fuck. 

Put out and unsure how to respond, annoyance was the easiest go to. Even if he could get under your skin, you weren't going to let him think he could just walk in here, interrupt your ceremony, and drain you dry just because he pegged that you liked his pretty face, "Oh, bite me!” ok maybe not the smartest choice of words here. His grin flashed a fang while his eyes took on the golden quality, “You ask so nicely.” Huffing in humiliation you glared up at him, “I'm not a snack unless you want to eat dirt." 

He reached to your hand with the fresh cut, he chuckled, "I'd rethink that, babe." Letting him lift your arm, the leather covering his palm pressed firm against your wrist while his other cradled the back of your hand. He caught your gaze, candle light dancing across his eyes, flickering with that vampiric shift before he flattened his tongue to lick across your palm. Toeing along your cut had you gasping before he followed the blood trail up your fingers to suck on the coated tips. 

Groaning as your thighs clenched together for some kind of relief- the heady heat intensifying, goosebumps breaking out across your skin at the feel of his tongue. The languid fire rushing through your veins. Another swipe of his tongue before his mouth left you, fingers clean of blood. 

"You taste like a snack to me." The blush that bloomed totally went all the way down to your nipples, it had to, you felt like you were burning alive under his touch, "Besides, I'd eat whatever you want as long as you let me eat you." 

Shuddering a groan in response, Cheeky! He's so frickin cheeky! His lips already back on your palm, this time with the plush feel of his lips dragging along the cut. Before you could think better of it the words were already out if your mouth, "Do you promise?" You could feel the vibrations of his own groan against your skin. Dragged his tongue roughly against your slice as his grip tightened around your wrist. Pulling away the look he gave you was the most piercing, most serious you'd seen him wear, "I promise to do as many bad things with you as you'll let me." 

He was serious. There wasn't a hint of hesitancy or mirth in his answer. He meant that and fuckin’ A you wanted him to do so many bad things to you. There was something darkly sweet to it. A deep craving sparked inside your veins- you'd let him do almost anything he'd ask for. The look he pinned you with carried a deeper promise hidden inside it. You couldn't place exactly what that promise was, only that it was something more than a quick fuck. 

You didn't care that he'd basically stalked you, totally interrogated someone to figure out where you'd be, wickedly liked that he’d go that far for you. Stalk and vampire were basically synonyms, anyway. The way he brushed against your energy during the week to how he'd blatantly flirted in front of his pack with a language so intimate to you; He had you on your toes in every interaction. 

It was odd. Everything since coming to this place was odd. Your coven, the species, the land. Him and his pack were just another thing in a mixed bag. The oddest bunch of vampires you’d ever crossed paths with. You couldn't really complain, didn't want to, not with the way he was lavishing his tongue across your skin. You thought you might cry if he stopped. 

Not for the first time you wondered how he so good with reading energy? How was he here? "Shouldn't you hate this?" You'd meant the energy bouncing around the area, active, old, chaotic. He should be wiggin’ from the feel of it. But without that clarification he must have thought you’d meant what was happening between you. Releasing the back of your hand to grasp your other, guiding it between his legs to feel how hard he was. Drawing back from your palm to answer, “Still think I’m hatin’ this?” 

Knowing he was just as affected as you was sobering. With a little more confidence you’d pressed your palm into him with your answer, “ This, this is primo” Caressing him through his jeans was a challenge, but you down with trying, “...But I meant the energy. Shouldn’t you hate being here? It’s so active. You’re closed off, I can’t feel you. How?” The groan he let out made you increase the pressure, it was so outrageously sexy...It was totally unfair. The groan turned to a chuckle and that cheeky grin was back, “Want me against you that bad, Pixie?" 

Flustered, you sputtered instead of answering. Like, he wasn't wrong. You really did want that, but he was avoiding and you wanted to know why. Before you could pursue it, he plucked both wrists up, pulled you closer and set them around his shoulders. Flush against him, insanely blushing, as he slid his hand down your arms to grab your waist. 

Leaning down into your neck, licking up to your ear, "There, this better?" Gulping down your embarrassment and giving him a tiny afimming nod. You'd wanted to ask again, but the feel of him pressed into you and what he was doing to your throat was so wickedly distracting. 

Hands sliding to your hips, pressing his pelvis into yours- grinding. Mouthing along your neck with a few nips before licking up to your ear. Nibbling around the shell before sucking on the lobe, his next whisper had all rational thought leave you, "Let me have you?” It was so earnest, so raw, you weren’t sure what exactly he was asking for. 

Your blood, sex, or something else entirely, but it didn’t really matter. You’d let him have anything as long as he kept his mouth on you, “I need to taste you, feel your pussy on my tongue." The yearning in his voice mega flattering, fluttering in your chest, and had your panties drenched. Nodding without any real thought, not like you really needed to think about that decision, anyway. 

His grip tightened on your hips with a coo, "So sweet for me, " Then his hands slid around to grip your ass, lifting you up dragging your center across his hardened member, "Yo gonna use this? Gonna draw the energy into a ritual while I eat your cunt?" Your hiss wasnt enough of an answer, "Come on, Pixie, ya gonna call your gods in so they can feed off me fucking their priestess?" His nip to your neck doing a fantastic job of sending pleasant tingles down your spine, goosebumps raising across your arms, "Let them enjoy the way my cock looks stuffed in your tiny pussy?" 

Groaning at his words while arching your back, pressing into him more. It wasn't important to mention that the goddesses were already here, watching, and presumably, enjoying - logistics, "Yes! Like, totally fucking yes!" Sex magic was powerful. It was empowering and one hella wailin’ offering to a god. That’d be one way to show your thanks.

The bite above your collarbone wasn’t enough to break skin, but def enough to make you moan, "Good, then let's get their devotee presented," placing you down on the blanket before grasping your bralette and ripping it in two. 

The display made your pussy clench, but he hadn't asked, "Duuude! So lame! I liked that." He kneeled next to you, grin wide, "Sorry, Pixie, but your tits are mass bangin this way." Pinching a nipple for emphasis drew a hissed breath from you while pressing into his palm, "Looks like you're mad into it too." 

His snicker didn't phase you once his lips met the pebbled nipple, mind taken over by the way his tongue passing it in grazes, soothing it. Switching to the neglected one, giving it the same treatment before giving the bud a nip as he trailed kisses down your stomach. Pulling away briefly to unbutton your pants and pulling them off without a hitch- vampire strength, huh. 

He placed open mouth kisses up your calf, holding your right leg up to kiss the meat of your inner thigh before continuing up. Mouthing over your soaked panties had you arching into a cry. Even with them still in place, he traced his tongue through your slit. Suckling where your clit was sent a pleasant shock in your system. It was sloppy, it was hot, and gods did you love it. Pulling away to nip down your left thigh until he was pulling back to grip your panties. Sliding them down your legs until he had the pair in his palm. 

Grinning at you as he placed them in a pocket of his jacket, patting the area for good measure, "For cear, Marko?" He was leaning down to capture your lips quicker than you could register. Languid, sensual, but with that underlaid edge of danger- just like the way he moved. His tongue played against yours in a way that caused your hips to grind against the air, seeking something to press into.

You could taste yourself in the kiss and you found you didn't mind. Not with the way his lips slid against yours, tongue baiting you to playing, chasing after his until he turned on you and chased back. When he finally pulled away, a long line of saliva trailed between the two of you, your brain mush, having completely forgotten what you'd been talking about, "My name sounds fuckin’ bitchin’ comin from you, Babe."

Oh, it was the first time you'd said his name. Out of everything that's happened so far, all of the things he's teased you with, never mind that you were naked in front of him, about to engage in a sex rite, it was the fact that him kissing you like that, like he was a man starved was because you'd finally said his name? The warm feel was back in your chest with a vengeance, that was what had you the most embarrassed out of everything. You’d have to think on the feeling later, too heavy now.

Tossing his jacket aside, you got a better view of everything. And damn, was it fine. Trim, but muscular, not overly buff, but still totally a mega stud. Watching him walk to the altar he dipped his hand in, coating it in blood before looking back to you. 

"Don't mind if I help, do ya?" You'd let him do anything he liked to you right now, what was more dangerous is he knew it too. Without waiting for your reply, he dragged his coated hand across you, "Invoke whoever it is you pray to. I hope they like their supplicants wet and wanting." Pulse fluttering to match the trail of his hand, the goddesses this was dedicated to were already here, invoked and observing. What he'd said earlier came rushing back, "What if I appealed to you?" His hand stopped, tone dripping with dark promise, "I'd be a selfish god," the drag if his hand felt so good against you, "I want you fuckin filthy. Dripping, sobbing, and dirty for me. Only for me."

He knew energy work, had to have done something with it before he'd been turned. The design he'd painted on you didn't include sigils, but was a basic version of one you might have done, and it ran through meridians points. It'd explain why he was so good at manipulating it, communicating with it, even closing himself down like now- something you’d never heard of vampires being capable of. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have issues with a witch. Vaguely, you wonder what he was, a Medium? Shaman? Warlock? Druid?

The list could go on, but when his lips found yours again that line of inquiry floated to the back of your mind in favor of feeling the sensation his tongue played on yours. Kissing rougher than before you felt the razor sharp edge of his fang. Pulling back a glance confirmed he'd fully shifted. Vampiric features sharp, less human, but no less alluring. He'd paused to gauge your reaction. 

Reaching up to grasp his crop top, pulling him towards you to bring your lips closer. Grazing yours against his just shy of a kiss, tongue slipping out to trace along the seam, glancing up with what you hoped was a sultry look before whispering, "It's ok, you were right, I like the fangs." And then your lips were back on his, tongue pressing into his mouth, pushing the tip against a sharp canine until it pierced and bled. 

The pain didn’t register, too mixed up in the pleasure. The metallic copper tang filled your mouth as he reared back with a snarl, "Oh, you're bad, playing with fire here, kitten." Bringing your knees to your chest spreading them wide so he could see how wet you were, "Thought we already established I’m down with your kinda danger." With a growl he was back on you, tongue swiping the blood that'd dripped from your lips, "When you ignored me yesterday and asked to see Paul's fangs, that hurt." 

You could only listen as he dipped his tongue into your mouth and pulled back with bloodied lips, "You liked our flirting, were so receptive to me, so why not my fangs?" They grazed against you now until a small cut on the edge of your mouth had more blood flowing free, "But I'm glad you did it. Helping Paul...wanted to show you how grateful we all are to you." 

He worked his way down your throat while a hand trailed your front, finding your sweet spot incredibly quickly, "You impressed David, impressed us all, that's a choice thing to do. He wont show it, but if our new little witch needs anything, we got you." Vampires having a witches back? It was almost enough to make you laugh, but the way his fingers ran through yours folds drew out a moan instead. 

"Is that why you're here with me? Instead of hangin with the posse?" His fingers just barely dipping inside you, teasing your entrance while his thumb found your clit, growling into your neck in answer, "I'm here because I want to be." Biting down on your sweet spot without breaking skin, pulling back with that trademark grin while circling his thumb around your clit, "Im strung, Pixie." You moaned at his admission. 

He couldn’t be for real...no way he was as infatuated with you as you were with him. The slow push of his fingers into you knocked the doubt out of you. The biting kisses he left across your chest felt like fire, "I’m not knuckle deep in your cunt because I was told to." He growled while placing more kisses down your bloodied front, settling between your thighs, "Already said I want to eat you, I didn't mean just your blood...but I'll take that too." Gripping your left thigh he pressed your leg open, kissing along the surface. 

You knew what he was about to do, anticipated it, wanted it. Your pussy clenched around his fingers at the first prick of his fangs. Moaning towards the sky as they dug in deeper, the circling on your clit picked up with the rock of his fingers into you. The first pull of blood was euphoric for you both. Back arching, crying your pleasure out for anyone watching, pain mingled beautifully with white hot heat of his hand. 

You were so close, so fucking close to cumming. Hands digging into the soil, senses overloading, not really differentiating between pain or pleasure. You were close to the edge so fast, everything tightening. Gasping out of breath, begging without even thinking, "Please, fuck please, Marko, please! I'm so close!" 

Even if you hadn't said anything, you were sure he still would have pulled away. Fingers clenching the soil, the sob you let out was desperate, distraught, and all together pathetic. He cooed down at you with a bloodied face fluttering kisses along your thighs, "Shhh, I got you, Babe. Can't have it just yet, want your first one on my tongue." 

Crying in frustration you sobbed, "Then fucking eat me! Gods, put your mouth back on me, please Marko! I'll do anything you ask! Need you splitting me open...please" you sounded so pathetic, he didn’t even have to tease you much, but it's been so long and you couldn't care less how you sounded. The look he gave you certainly made it worth it, "Begging so pretty without me askin? Youre fuckin’ stellar." 

His mouth was devouring you in the next second. Tongue splitting through your folds, sucking, nipping, eating you like a man starved. Like you were an especially messy peach and he hadn’t eaten in days. Sucking your clit between his plush lips while his fingers went back to fucking into you, lifting his mouth, he ran his mouth, “You taste so fuckin good, Pixie...Getting so messy for me.” Moaning at his words, fingers digging deep into the soil, “You fuckin want it bad, huh? Takin my fingers like a little slut.” Nodding frantically while moaning his name. 

Your reward was a swipe of his tongue, “Sounds so good when you cry like that...Bet you like getting fucked while everyone watches. Sounds like you do.” Clenching around his fingers gave your answer away, “That's right, bet you were the go to volunteer for rites like this. Show em what a sick little pussy you’re rockin." 

You were right there, right fucking there, "Gonna take you home, fuck you in front of my brothers," Groaning at the image behind your eyes, clenching hard around his fingers, “Make you fuckin cream for them. Might let em have a taste if you want.” Feeling his fingers quickly leave you, replaced by his tongue, just in time too because that was all you needed to push you over the edge. 

The shrill scream of his name as you come on his tongue was the only thing that echoed in the field. Coming back to yourself with gasping breaths, calming down a tough challenge after the mind shattering orgasm he'd rung out of you. The feeling of moving but not being the one in control vaguely registered. 

When you fully regained your brain function you realized he'd arranged you so your face was laying against your folded forearms, knees under you but mainly the hand on your hip holding you up. The feel of him sliding his cock through your folds came to the front of sensations next, teasing the last of your spasms out. Pressing the head against your clit before slapping it against your opening. 

“You with me yet, Babe?” You answered by arching back into his teasing, “I'm here,” the hand on your hip released its grip, trusting you to hold yourself up so he could grasp a cheek of your ass. Spreading you open to watch the way his cock teased between your lips, "You good?" The question was soft, sweet, and unexpected, but you liked it even more that way. 

Were you ok? Checking in said that yes, fuck yes, you were better than ever, “Mmmm, I’m fine,” he slapped across the cheek he'd just held, “Most definitely are.” Fingers tracing down your spine, “Gonna fuck your little hole until its stretched open. Fill you up...Wanna see if you can handle vampire cock like you can fangs." You answered with a moan and a little wiggle, “Well? Show me what I've been missing then, fangs.” The grin he gave you would stay imprinted in your memory forever. 

The feel of his cock head pushing in drew a hiss from you. He was so thick, thicker than what you expected, but damn was it delicious. Both of you moaning once he was fully seated inside, hips flush to your ass. Starting slow to feel the drag of your walls around him, "Fu...uck! You're so damn tight." Thrusting back into you roughly before muttering, “A bitchin’ fuckin’ pussy.” 

His praise sent heat down your spine and caused you to clench tighter the rougher he got. Moaning his name when he hit that special spot, the drag of his cock divine, “Right there! Fuck, ohhh, Marko, rig...ht there!" Your panting breath egging him on, “You like taking vampire cock? Gonna cream on it?” Groaning, “Gods, yes!” before he chuckled, “This cunt was made for it. Messy hole just sucking me back in.” 

Pushing you down into his thrust, “Hear how fuckin wet you are for it?” The wet slapping sounds disgusting, but still so fucking good.

He moaned, hand trailing into your hair, gripping a fist full, before pulling you up and bring your back flush to his chest. The new angle hitting with more force, ”You're so good for me. So fucking good…” Crying at his praises, “You deserve to be worshipped. I’m game for it. Filled full every night and fucked empty every morning.” 

Moaning out that yes, yes you like that idea too. His thrusts pounding up into you harder, lips kissing along your neck leaving plenty of love bites. Hand still balled in your hair while the other wrapped around the front to fondle your chest. 

Pinching a nipple while he licked up to your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth you groaned, “What would your sisters say if they could see you now?” Tilting your head to give more access before a breathy moan of, “I don't care, let them,” He chuckled, “Can't have that, they'd hex you out. Need them to think you're a good girl.” Releasing your hair to grasp your hip, kicking up his speed. The hand on your chest slid up your throat to grasp your jaw, turning your face towards his. 

Your pupils were blown wide, hazy fucked out expression meeting a dark intense devotion, “...but we both know you're Cold." A soft kiss that turned rough, “A bad girl that likes to be fucked like a slut.” Pressing your mouth open before he spat in it. Dropping his arm down your front to play with your clit, hissing into your ear, “Let your gods watch, but it'll be our secret outside.” 

Then his fangs were sinking into your neck. Blood droplets sliding down your chest, arching back and down into his hammering thrusts. Dragging your hand up his arm and then into his hair, pushing his head deeper in your neck, begging him to draw more from you. Moaning out at the feel of it all, silently devoting the energy here to the goddesses. 

The caw of The Morrígan let you know that they were indeed pleased to watch your invocation.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is @lackingspace. I post dumb stuff there.


End file.
